


It Could Have Been Us

by berlynn_wohl



Category: U2
Genre: Angst, First Time, Hand Jobs, Kittens, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-08-11
Updated: 2002-08-11
Packaged: 2017-10-26 09:45:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/281573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/berlynn_wohl/pseuds/berlynn_wohl





	It Could Have Been Us

**1**

"What do you mean, canceled?"

"The place burned to the ground last night. There's no gig because there's no venue."

Adam crushed his cigarette underfoot and blew one last smoke ring, which immediately disappeared against the overcast sky. He leaned against the tour bus without a care for the grime. "So what are we gonna do?"

"Was anyone hurt?" Bono blurted. "Did everyone make it out alright?"

Paul shook his head. "Most everyone was evacuated, but a few people were trapped inside. I think two of the guys in the band didn't make it out."

"That place was an accident waiting to happen," Ellen said, flipping up a page on her clipboard. "I saw the Ramones there a couple years ago. This doesn't surprise me at all. Oh, look at this, Paul." She held the clipboard out for Paul to see. His eyes widened for an instant but he retained his stoic composure.

"According to this, lads," he said grimly, "you were originally booked there last night, but we put it off a day because we wanted to squeeze in one more show in Buffalo."

"You mean," said Edge, "that could have been us in there last night?"

"So what are we going to do?" Adam asked again.

"There's nothing we can do." Paul handed the clipboard back to Ellen. "We've got a gig in Asbury Park tomorrow night. The bus is scheduled to leave at eleven in the morning. Until then, you lads go out and have fun."

The raggedy cluster of band and crew dispersed, leaving Edge standing alone in front of the tour bus, clutching his guitar case. Bono went to retrieve their room key and approached him on the way back. "Our room's right here. Oh wait." He turned the key upside down. No, that's one-fifteen. We're in five-eleven." He looked up at the staircase. "Bugger. You want me to grab your suitcase for you? Edge?"

"That could have been us in there," Edge said, and didn't move.

"Yeah it could have been. But it wasn't. Come on, let's...um, are you gonna be alright?"

There was a soft breeze. "I think I want to go for a walk," said Edge.

"Okay."

"But not here."

For thoughtful walks, Edge preferred the bleak evening stillness of the industrial districts to the buzz and rush of downtown. Particularly the industry of the port cities; it reminded him of home. They called a cab and convinced the driver that, yes, that's really where they wanted to go. They ambled amongst the warehouses, abandoned for the evening, and the railroad tracks, abandoned for eternity.

"Is everything going to be okay?" Bono said, keeping his eyes on the sunset-silhouettes of the telephone poles. "I mean, I understand being upset about the club, but..."

"I don't think I want to talk about it. I don't want to be told that sometimes these things just happen."

"Well, I wouldn't say that. Not exactly. It's just that --- Oh, Jesus." Bono turned around and took a couple steps back the way they came. Edge looked at him, then at the road. "What's the matter? Oh, my God..." Edge ran right up to it, while Bono stayed put and refused to look.

"What is it? Is it a possum? Please tell me it's something ugly and rabid, like a possum."

Edge kneeled down over it and called back, "No, it's a cat." The kill was pretty fresh; no flies yet, although it was not the time of year for their abundance. The ants had found it, though. They swarmed the cat, and the...

The...

"Jesus, Bono, come look at this! Quick!"

"I don't want to look at it!"

"Bono, come here! There are kittens and they're still alive!"

 

 **2**

The ants were all over the kittens, too. One kitten had been flattened in a gruesome manner by a truck tire, another was intact but dead, a pair were huddling against the rapidly cooling body of the mother, another crawled aimlessly away.

Bono was ready to burst into tears, but Edge wasted no time. "Help me get these ants off." He reached down fearlessly, separated the two kittens from the mother, and brushed the creeping ants away. They crawled all over his hands. He pressed his palms to the pavement to squish them.

"Bono, what's wrong with you? Help me!"

Bono retrieved the third kitten, which was not so badly infested, and squeamishly removed the insects as best he could with minimal touching. The kittens were so tiny. Edge could easily carry all three of them in one hand. He told Bono to look around and make sure there weren't more. In the distance, a horn honked.

"There's a truck!" Bono ran down the middle of the lane, right in the truck's path, waving his arms. The driver was merciful and came to a stop, although when Bono leaned in the open passenger-side window, he wasn't all pleased.

"What on Earth is wrong with you, boy?" He looked out over the hood. "'Zat your cat?"

"I don't know whose it is. Listen, mister, it was a mama cat and there's kittens still alive." Edge stood behind Bono, and held them up for the driver to see. "Can you give us a ride back into town so we can get them taken care of?"

The driver was hesitant. These kids looked like a couple of punks; he feared they might rob him when they were halfway back to town. What were they doing out here in the middle of nowhere, anyway? But he was a streetwise guy and taking a second look at them he could tell they were sincere. You can tell by the eyes. It's always in the eyes.

"Hop in," he said, shoving the empty fast-food containers from the seat to the floor. "Don't mind your feet. Just garbage down there."

Bono and Edge climbed in and thanked him for the lift. The man turned the truck a bit as he accelerated to avoid the remains of the mama cat, out of respect for his passengers. Edge gazed down into his clasped hands at the kittens. The smallest one, the one that had crawled away, was all-white, although at the moment it was caked with what Edge hoped was it's mother's blood and not its own. The two others were mottled gray-and-black with white bellies. They mewled piteously and squirmed in his hands. "Look at them," Bono said, and casually brushed Edge's hair away from his eyes. "They're so tiny. I've never seen such tiny helpless creatures before. How are we going to take care of them?"

"We'll find a way. I'll call a veterinarian when we get back. Excuse me mister, but do you know where we can find a veterinarian in this city?"

The man spit his tobacco out the window. "I'm afraid not, young man. Wait. As a matter of fact, my brother-in-law is a vet. Lives in Connecticut, but I can give you his phone number. He mostly deals with livestock. Births calves and such. But I'm sure he could help you with your young 'uns, there."

Bono had a pen but no paper. He wrote the number on his arm and looked out the window. "Our hotel's just two blocks from here. You can drop us."

The driver smiled. "Good luck now, boys. And get them things fixed when they grow up. If there's one thing this cruel world don't need, it's more poor unwanted cats running around."

"Thank you, sir," Edge called as they hopped out. "See?" he said to Bono. "He thinks they'll live."

Bono nodded. He wanted to believe.

But Edge needed to.

 

 **3**

Edge sat down in the cool, darkened hotel room and told Bono to hold out his arm so he could call the vet. "Hello," he said into the phone, "I'm looking to speak to a veterinarian...Oh, good. I'm sorry, what's your name?...Well, Doctor Nelson, my name is, em, Dave, and I was given your number by your brother-in-law? Yes, green truck...He was very nice and he said you could help me. You see I found this mama cat that had been hit by a car, but three of her kittens were still alive....Yes, I've got them right here...Well, I don't know. They're very small...Yes, it looks like there's still a bit of umbilical cord attached...Oh my. Well, no, I'm afraid I can't make an appointment to come in. I'm in Syracuse right now. I'm in a band and we're on the road. Tomorrow I'll be in New Jersey. Can you just tell me, I mean there must be some way I can take care of them...Uh huh...Wait, let me write this down." He made a writing gesture at Bono, who retrieved a pen and his lyrics notebook. Edge copied down a list which went on for quite a while, and Bono sat in a chair by the nightstand, wringing his hands, as though keeping a bedside vigil.

"...I certainly will. Thank you so much, doctor." Edge hung up. "Get me a towel," he said to Bono, then called after him, "and a washcloth!" He petted the kittens with one finger and whispered "Don't worry, little ones, I'm going to take care of you." He took the towel from Bono and put the tiniest kitten, the white one, on top of it on his lap. He handed the other two to Bono.

"What are you going to do?"

Edge folded up the washcloth in one hand and turned the kitten over with the other. "You have to rub them with a towel, to make them go."

"Go where?"

"No, you know. Go."

"Oh. Right." Bono made a face.

Edge gently stroked the kitten's bottom and explained, "They can't go on their own when they're this little. You have to help them. Can you imagine that? Imagine having to take a piss but not being physically able to."

It only took a moment before the kitten began to urinate profusely. "Oh, ick." Bono turned his head.

"Would you quit freaking out over every little thing? Okay hand me another kitten. Go get me the rest of the towels." As Edge began again with the next kitten, he tilted his head towards the notebook. "I saw a supermarket down the street. Go get me everything I wrote."

Bono picked up the list. "Are you sure you can find all this stuff there?"

"Of course you can find it all there! That's why they call it a supermarket! Jesus, Bono, you act so fucking helpless about the simplest things, well now we have some animals here who really ARE helpless, so get your act together!" He grabbed the last of the towels for the third kitten. "I'm sorry, it's just...look, they might not have the milk-replacement formula, but everything else should be there. Get Ellen to find a car and drive you to a pet shop. Look in the telephone directory. Just hurry! Please."

Bono left without saying goodbye but Edge didn't notice. When the last kitten finished, he cleaned the rest of the blood off them, examining them carefully for wounds but finding none. He dumped the soiled towels in the bathtub and sat in silence on the bed, leaning back against the headboard and holding the kittens to his chest. They were a little quieter now, no longer in pain, but no doubt hungry and wanting their mother. Underneath their mews, an electric clock buzzed on the wall. Edge watched it. Bono was taking forever. Edge talked to the kittens as he warmed them; he told them about the club and what happened to it. "It could have been us in there," he told them, "but they rescheduled the gig. And that's why I was out walking so I could find you."

The kittens pawed at Edge's shirt and howled lustily for their mother, except the white one, who peeped once in a while but was otherwise quiet and still. "I know, I know," said Edge. "You're hungry, but we have to wait until Bono gets --- oh, look, there he is!"

Bono followed Ellen into the room carrying a cardboard box. She had a large brown paper bag. "We got everything on your list. Let me see them! Oh, they're so small! I asked the man at the pet shop and he gave me this." She handed Edge a can of powdered milk substitute.

"Are there any clean towels left?" Edge asked. Bono went to the bathroom to check.

"Oh my," he said, "I hope the cleaning lady doesn't think WE did that to those towels." Ellen pointed out the booklet they'd gotten from the pet shop clerk. It was all about caring for orphaned kittens. Edge opened it up to the page on feeding, and told Bono to read it aloud while he mixed the powder with warm water. He absorbed the text that Bono recited as he gathered the formula up in a dropper and tested it on his wrist. Then he picked the first kitten up and set it on the towel over his lap.

As per Bono's instructions, Edge placed the tip of the dropper against the kittens mouth and it opened up its little mouth. He squeezed a droplet onto its tongue and it swallowed, but the poor thing was so frenzied with hunger, Edge couldn't get it to suckle properly. It was tricky work; to get just the right amount of formula into the squirming kitten's mouth as it demanded it, without choking it. Once he had several drops out and into it's stomach, it settled down and began to suckle on the end of the dropper. It pawed at the towel and it's little folded-over ears bobbed. When Edge took the dropper away to refill it, the kitten complained and nuzzled for more. He fed it another dropper-full, and this time when it finished it seemed satisfied. Edge took a clean washcloth and rubbed the kitten all over until it trembled and made a strange, barely audible noise.

"What was that?"

"The doctor said you have to burp them."

"Like a baby? Far out."

Edge traded him for the other mackerel-colored kitten and did the same with it. This one was put off by the strange offering, but once it tasted the formula on the tip of the dropper it became more compliant. The third kitten, the white one, was weak and couldn't raise its head. Even after Edge opened its mouth and gave it a drop, it barely swallowed, and the formula dribbled down its tiny jaw. The patient silence between the three people became tense. Edge tried again. He held the kitten and rubbed it while feeding it with the dropper in his other hand. It took a little, but refused to suckle. "Come on, little one, you have to eat now." Edge got frustrated and gently set the white kitten down before he inadvertently took his aggravation out on it. Ellen left; she had phone calls to make. Bono sat on the bed next to Edge. "Is there anything I can do?"

Edge sighed. "I don't know why it's so lethargic." He asked Bono to fill a hot-water bottle and put in under a towel in the box he'd retrieved. When Bono put the two mottled kittens in the box they huddled together on the warm towel and were content. Edge spent another ten minutes trying to get the white kitten to feed, but he was only marginally successful.

Back in those days, the crew barely outnumbered the band, and word spread within the hour. One by one, everyone came knocking, asking to see the kittens. They wanted to touch them or hold them, but Edge would not allow it.

"I don't want them needlessly exposed to germs by letting everyone get their grubby little hands all over them." He glared at a certain roadie. "Especially knowing where some of your hands have been. Kenneth."

"Hey, when Paul accused me of just sitting around and pulling my pud, he didn't mean it literally! I don't think."

"I'll call an animal shelter in the morning," Paul said.

Bono giggled. "For Kenneth?"

"Don't worry, Edge, we'll find someone to take good care of those little rugrats."

"What are you talking about? I'm going to take care of them."

Larry scowled and voiced his skepticism. "I don't see any good coming of that. Even if they do live, what's going to happen when they get big and start running around? We don't have a place to keep them."

"The tour's almost over," Edge replied. "By the time they're that old they can be running around my house."

"How are you going to give them the attention they need?"

"I'm a guitar player, not a bank manager. I can take them everywhere with me. To interviews. During the gigs a roadie can watch them."

"I wouldn't trust a roadie with an EMPTY cardboard box, much less one filled with small animals." Larry waved his hand absently and mumbled, "Present company excluded."

"Look, I'm keeping them and that's that. You guys can mind your own business."

Bono smiled at Edge. "Well I for one think you are doing a noble thing and will do whatever I can to help you." He was largely ignored. Larry, who was a dog person anyway, was the first to get up and leave. The others followed one by one; a few lingered in the hopes that Edge would let them hold the kittens after all, but when they asked for one more look Edge stodgily reminded them, "You look with your eyes, not your hands." When Bono and Edge found themselves alone, it was past dark. Bono turned on a light, then the television, flipping around the dial.

"Hey, look, it's 'Hawaii Five-O!'"

"I never understood why you like this show so much."

"How can you _not_ like this show?" Bono hummed along with the theme song.

All evening they watched the television. Bono had his lyrics notebook in his lap and Edge held the kittens, gently stroking them while they napped. He fed them every few hours, which was an arduous process because he had to mix a new cup of formula every time and needed to measure carefully so as not to waste too much. He would get frantic when it was time to take care of their various needs. Every second counted when they cried plaintively from discomfort. Particularly when he had three to juggle, it upset him to hear two crying and made it difficult to properly feed the third. Even when he got them taken care of and they lay snoozing in a furry pile, he couldn't relax because the white one was still troubled. It barely moved; its siblings crawled over it. Just to hold it made Edge sad. It was cool and lifeless while the others were warm and squirmy. The mottled ones paddled around the box on their not-yet-useful legs while Edge tried once more in vain to fill the white one's tummy, but it wouldn't swallow, it wouldn't knead the towel like the others did, and when he took the dropper away, it didn't nose around trying to find it. He kept trying. It got late. Johnny Carson said goodnight. Edge was still trying.

"Hey check it out," Bono said. "This show's brand new."

"Oh yeah?" Edge was half paying attention.

"Yeah I like this guy. He's funny. David Letterman. He does mad shit on this show. I was watching the other night. He had these canned hams, and he...Edge? Edge, what's wrong?

"Bono. Come here."

Bono turned the television off and sat next to Edge on the narrow bed. Edge's hand trembled. He turned his wrist and the white kitten rested in his open palm. It wasn't moving at all now. Edge had held it as it died.

"I tried. I tried so hard to make it better."

"Oh, Edge, I know you did." Bono put an arm around his shoulders and pulled him close.

"But it wasn't good enough."

"Edge, this kitten could have died freezing on the asphalt. You did everything you could do make it comfortable when it went."

Edge pulled back and gazed at Bono, the tears spilling down his face; already his ability to modulate his voice was impaired. "But it wasn't good enough!"

"Shh, come on, don't cry, please." Bono caught his tears with a fingertip and leaned in quite close, whispering. "You should be proud that you did what you did. When I saw that mama cat, I was ready to turn around and walk back without taking another look. I would have left those kittens there. Okay? You did a wonderful thing. Now look at this." He pulled the box closer and pointed to the two kittens inside. "See those two? Now, these guys are robust. Look at this one." He pulled one out of the box, hoping Edge wouldn't reprimand him. "This one, he's gonna be a real mouser when he grows up. Mouser, hell, this is a rugby-playing cat you've got right here."

Edge laughed weakly despite himself. He turned his head away but Bono took his chin in hand and turned it back so they could look each other in the eye.

"How is it," Edge asked, "that you can always make me laugh when I'm sad?"

"Make you laugh? I am serious. You are going to own the world's first rugby-playing cat. Why are you laughing, Edge? I'm serious." He took the white kitten from Edge's grasp and wrapped it in a clean towel. "Tomorrow we'll take care of this little guy, okay? You worry about your rugby team now."

 

 **4**

Bono got up in the morning to find Edge mixing another batch of formula in the bathroom.

"Just a second, I'm almost done in here," Edge said.

"Were you up all night?"

"Yeah. I didn't have an alarm to wake me at interval, so I just stayed up. We went for a walk."

"We?"

"I put them in my shirt pockets. You know, I think they've already grown some."

"That's ridiculous, it's only been..." Bono looked in the box. "Well I'll be damned. Wow, that whole 'rugby-team' thing was just a joke..."

"Hurry up and get dressed. We need to find a shovel somewhere."

Bono dressed and crossed the parking lot to pay a visit to the front desk clerk. He charmed her into opening up the gardener's shed so he could find a spade. There was nothing but an empty lot behind the hotel, so they found a suitable spot near the chain-link fence and Bono dug a hole. He was waiting for Edge's cue to stop, but didn't get one, so he dug and dug and finally said, "D'you think that's deep enough?" Edge nodded and kneeled down to place the bundle in the hole.

"Goodbye, little one," he said. "I'm sorry you didn't really have a chance. I guess this world was just too much for you. I understand." He didn't say anything else, but sat there for a while. Bono dropped the shovel and put his hands on Edge's shoulders.

"You gave it the only love it ever knew," he said.

Edge closed his eyes and two more teardrops fell, raising puffs of dust on the ground where they landed. Bono rested his cheek on Edge's shoulder.

"I'm so sorry."

"Bono! Edge! What the hell are you doing over there!? The bus is leaving in ten minutes! Get your arses in gear!" Larry turned around without investigating the scene and went back around to the parking lot.

"Here, I'll do it." Edge picked up the shovel. "Go put our suitcases on the bus. I'll meet you."

The first shovelful of earth is the hardest to pile on, but he wanted to do it himself.

****

When Edge found a seat on the bus, he was immediately surrounded. It was the beginning of a trend; everywhere Edge went for the next month, he seemed to exert a gravitational pull, as though he were a planet with two tiny satellites. Nearly everyone wanted another peek at the babies, except Larry, which surprised no one. Edge still refused to let anyone touch the kittens but he told them the story. "They were covered with ants when I found them," he said.

"That's morbid," said Bono.

Edge shrugged. "It's true."

"Do they have names?" someone asked.

"No, no names yet."

Paul looked into the box and frowned. "I thought there were three."

Edge swallowed hard and was silent. "There _were_ three," Bono said on his behalf.

Paul's expression softened. "Poor little thing."

"Okay back off everyone," Bono said. "Edge has to feed them now. Come on, give him some room." Edge looked at his watch. Bono was right. He located his suitcase and pulled out a towel, which earned him a few smart-arse comments about hotel thievery. He sneered and got out some cotton-balls as well. "Oh, you guys might not want to watch this part. It's kind of icky."

"What are you, my commentator?" Edge waved Bono away, as well. "This isn't a bloody tennis match."

"Sorry." Bono got up and went to find a book. The crew stuck around, although there were a few screwed-up faces and noises of mild disgust. Edge said nothing. When he started to feed them, he quickly regained the crowd's awe. He felt awkward with so many pairs of eyes on him, particularly since he liked to talk to the kittens while they fed, even if they were probably still deaf. He was too embarrassed to do that now.

Everyone laughed when Edge burped the kittens. Bono, who had given up acting like he didn't mind not being the center of attention, came to Edge's defense. "You have to do it! Really!"

When Edge put the kittens back in the box, he found the hot water bottle had cooled. He'd forgotten to put new water in before he left. Well, that's alright, he thought, and curled up in the seat and held them for the rest of the bus ride. He told Adam to wake him when they got to Asbury Park. That would give him plenty of time to feed them again before the show. But there was a traffic jam, so Adam didn't wake him up for hours. By that time they were already late for the gig. Edge had only a few minutes to refill the hot-water bottle in the bathroom of the club, and, finding no one more suitable, handed the box hastily to a roadie.

"Now listen to me," he said. "Do not let this box out of your sight. Do not touch the kittens. Do not put anything else in the box. If anything happens to them, you're fired. Got it?"

****

Edge sped the set up, shortening it from fifty minutes to thirty-five. They barely played as long as the Alarm, with whom they shared a double bill. Edge's frantic pace put a strain even on Bono, who had trouble keeping up. Larry kept throwing dirty looks, but Edge didn't notice. He didn't want to do an encore but the crowd was insistent and Bono couldn't say no to them. Edge said "Are the Alarm still here? Go bring out the Alarm and do the encore with them."

Everyone thought Edge was being unprofessional, except Bono, who thought it was a great idea. Not only would he (and the Alarm) happily agree to it that night, he would do it occasionally in the years to come with other opening acts. It always got a great audience response, which meant more to Bono than "professionalism." Meanwhile, Edge found his hired watchman just about to reach into the box. "Hey, knock that off! I saw that!" he said, and snatched the box from the roadie. The kittens were still inside, and the roadie insisted he hadn't touched them. They cried pitifully from hunger. "Oh, I know, little ones, but don't worry, I'm gonna get you taken care of very soon." When they got back to the hotel, he was frantic once again to feed his charges and keep them warm.

"I have a feeling this isn't going to get any easier anytime soon. It's really like having a baby."

"Except," Bono said, "a baby would eventually grow up and take care of you in your old age. But at least your rugby team there won't be asking to borrow the car every Saturday night."

Edge looked into the box and pointed at the kittens. "Okay, but you can't take the Firebird. You have to take the station wagon. And be home by eleven!"

"It's a good thing there's two of them," Bono said. "One to steer and one to work the pedals."

****

Edge stayed up most of the night again, although Ellen loaned him her new digital watch, which had an alarm. Bono said they should have hired The Alarm to wake him up every few hours. "I'll bet they could use the money."

 

 **5**

Asbury Park was still a gorgeous resort town back then. Everyone spent the afternoon in the little shops and on the beach. They built sandcastles and watched the tide come in.

Bono wanted to open the box, but Edge wouldn't let him. "They're too young. They shouldn't be in direct sunlight."

"Oh. So I guess they're too young to play in the sand, huh?"

"Yes. And we're probably too old."

"Those little guys are very lucky," said Ellen. "They're gonna get to see America. Just as soon as their eyes open, that is."

****

The next gig went much more smoothly. Edge had plenty of time to take care of the kittens beforehand. The show went off without a hitch, and the band was riding high on a tidal wave of adrenaline, until they got backstage and Edge found that a roadie had allowed the club owner to play with the kittens. He was entertaining his friends by holding one in each hand and talking out the side of his mouth in a squeaky voice. Edge threw his guitar aside and rushed him.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he looked at the roadie. "What did I tell you? What did I tell you a hundred times? No one touches them! I don't care if the Pope asks! No one! These are not toys! These are living creatures! Their bones haven't formed yet, you could have crushed them and not even realized it! Jesus." He laid the kittens gently down in the box and watched them for a moment to make sure they were alright. "I don't care if you do own this club. You don't touch what's not yours. And _you_ , you're fired."

"Edge calm down," Paul intervened. He put a hand on the roadie's shaking shoulder. "No one's fired. You're not fired."

Nobody could think of anything to say that could possibly be worth the risk of incurring further wrath. They retreated to the bus. It was the quietest ride back to the hotel any of them could remember. Bono had his arm around Edge and was whispering to him, but no one could hear what it was over the engine noise. He stroked Edge's hands, which held the kittens. People stared. Bono paused when the bus came to a stop. "What are you looking at? You all act like Edge shot a man in Reno just to watch him die. Go out and have fun tonight. Everyone get plastered and forget what happened."

When Paul gave Bono the room key he asked what he'd been whispering to Edge. Bono grinned shyly and turned his head away. "Oh, you know, I just asked him if it were true that he wouldn't let the Pope touch the kittens. You never know who you're gonna run into." And he flounced off to his room.

Edge set up with his towels and formula and sighed deeply. His adrenaline had run out. "After I do this I'm gonna catch a quick nap. Will you wake me?"

"Don't worry about a nap. Just sleep. I can take care of them tonight."

"That's not necessary," Edge replied, which was his nice way of saying he didn't trust Bono to handle it.

"Aw, come on, I know how to do it. I've watched you like a hundred times now."

"I don't know..."

"Edge, you haven't slept properly in three days. Go to bed. I can take care of them. Really."

Edge looked at the bed. The soft, warm, comfortable, inviting bed.

"Well...okay. But I want you to wake me up if anything happens."

"I will."

"And here's the book. It tells you how to do it all."

"I know."

"And you know the one with two white paws, that one can be difficult. Sometimes it's hard to convince him to eat."

"I know."

"And don't overfeed them. A dropperful and a half is all they need."

"I know."

"And when you hold them, keep them close to your chest so they can feel your heartbeat. It calms them."

"Edge! I know! Go to bed!"

"Wake me up if something goes wrong. I mean it."

"I will."

Edge slept like a log, waking only once in the night. He didn't know what time it was; it was dark, still. Street light poured in through the window. Bono was talking. Whispering.

"There you go, that's a good girl. Are you a girl? Edge never said. I'll bet you are. I'm told I have a way with girls...Okay, let's take care of your mate, here...Aw, don't wriggle so much, it's alright...I'm sorry you don't have your mommy here to help you do these things. I know it can be hard sometimes. I don't have a mommy either, anymore. But you have to eat because if you don't you'll end up like your little brother, or sister, and Edge will cry again. And I don't want him to do that. Do you? No, no. Edge deserves all the happiness in the world. That's why you have to eat, to make Edge happy...Ah, there you go. You've got to grow all big and strong if you want to be first string on the rugby team..."

 

 **6**

It took forever to get Edge out of bed the next day. He'd forgotten the virtues of a good night's sleep. Bono tried to wake him at nine for a feeding, but he mumbled in protest, so Bono gladly took care of it and let him sleep. At ten, Bono tried again, when everyone else was going out for breakfast at a nearby diner, but Edge pushed Bono away with an outstretched hand. At noon, Edge stumbled out of bed, hungry and disoriented, and said, "Oh no, the kittens!"

"Relax," Bono said. He reclined in the armchair and held them in his hands.

"You fed them?"

"Of course."

"And they went to the bathroom alright?"

"Yep."

"Did you wash them? Every morning you have to---"

"I did it all. Ellen brought us some breakfast." He pointed to the table, where sat a couple of white boxes in a plastic bag. "Probably cold now. But Edge, look at this." He waved Edge over and held out one of the kittens to show him. It's eyes had opened.

"Well, look at that." Edge took the kitten and examined it. It mewled and nosed around his hand, detecting his familiar scent.

"She's got beautiful green eyes," Bono said. "Just like you."

"She."

"Yeah, that one's a she. Says so in the book. The other one's a boy."

"When did her eyes open?"

"When I was washing her. I was stroking her head and her eyelids started to separate."

"What about the other one?"

"Not yet. But you know they told us in Health class that girls mature faster than boys. Sit. Have some breakfast."

****

From then on Bono and Edge took turns with kitten duties, although during the off-time Bono still kept his hands off them, out of respect. He did not want to abuse the trust that Edge had put in him. But he hovered over Edge at all times, fending off grabby bystanders and regaling spectators with stories of the adorable things they did. "They yawned this morning! I laughed for hours! They looked like tiny roaring pumas." Once it became clear Edge was not going to cave and let his charges fall into strange hands, the crew began to lose interest, but when both kittens' eyes and ears opened, their fascination was renewed.

Though their sensory apparatus was physically developed, it was still not fully functional, so the kittens mostly just stared and blinked. "Oh did you see that?" someone would squeal. "It blinked! That's so cute!"

Paul remained stoic. "Those things are going to grow up to be the neediest animals that ever lived. All Edge does all day is hold them. He bends over backwards to take care of them. They don't get any tough love like they would from a mother cat."

"Actually, you know what some experts say..." Edge was always ready with a fact. "They say cats who were hand-raised are more intelligent, more loyal, and more affectionate than cats raised the old-fashioned way."

Paul pointed at Edge as if making an accusation. "More affectionate, sure. More _needy_."

"How appropriate," Adam said. "Edge raises superintelligent cats."

"And loyal," Bono said, scooting closer to Edge. "Don't forget loyal."

Larry rolled his eyes. "Speaking of needy..."

 

 **7**

"Em...Edge, you better look at this."

Edge growled. "I was just about to get in the shower," he called from the bathroom. "Can it wait?"

"I don't think it can. Seriously. I think you need to come over here."

Bono's worried tone pulled Edge like he was on a string. He rushed into the room to investigate. Bono pointed into the box, and Edge saw something that he would only be happy to see once in his life.

"Hey, that's great! They went all by themselves! That's wonderful!"

"Yuck." Bono held his nose. "I'm not cleaning that up. You're on your own for this episode."

Edge kneeled down and pulled the kittens out of the box and let them toddle around for a while. These days they were on shaky legs, still, and their vision wasn't fully developed yet, so they bumped into things sometimes. ("They're growing up just like me," Bono said with a proud smile.) But hotel rooms were neat and spare, so Edge could let them run around while he prepared meals or cleaned the box, and it was easy to keep an eye on them. He replaced the soiled towel and dug through his battered grocery bag for the baking pan and litter that he'd bought in anticipation of this event.

Cats are instinctively clean animals and, unless ill or just ill-tempered, will prefer to go to the bathroom in a place where they can bury their waste. It was no task at all to teach the kittens to use the litterpan. He put them in it, guiding their little paws in a digging motion until they got the idea. When the kittens successfully used the pan for the first time, Edge collapsed in a chair and beamed.

"This will be so nice," he said. "No more wiping bottoms."

"Not 'til you have kids, at least," Bono said. "I hear they make bigger messes."

"Well if they can do that bit for themselves I guess it's time they learned to do the other bit. Bring that bag over here, would you?"

Bono peeked in the bag as he handed it to Edge. "Baby food?"

"Sure. The book says you should mix strained-meat baby food with the formula, and that's how you get them started on solids."

Bono opened the jar and dipped his finger into the baby food. He put his finger in his mouth. "Hmm. Not bad. What? What are you looking at?"

"Remind me to hide the kitten chow." Edge mooshed the formula together with the baby food. Bono scooped the kittens up. "Aren't you big kids today. You get to eat solid food now. I remember when I was a baby, the first time I had solid food..."

"Oh, you do not remember that."

"Shh, they don't know that." Bono put a finger to his lips and continued. "You little ones should be proud. This is a big step towards your dream of being rugby players."

"That's _your_ dream."

"You're not helping! I am trying to get them excited about this." He set the kittens down at the dish, but they didn't seem to notice the food. Edge put a little bit of the moosh on his fingertip and dabbed it on their noses. "You have to show them how tasty it is," he said. The kittens licked their noses clean and mewled the mewl of hunger.

"A-ha," said Edge. He put some more food on his fingertip and dabbed it once more, this time moving his finger slowly from their noses to the dish. "Come on, it's delicious, I promise."

Once they figured out what it was they were supposed to be doing, they gobbled up the moosh in a matter of minutes, quickly taking to the new concoction. When they finished, Edge took the dish away, reacquainted them with the litterpan, washed his hands, and then laid exhausted on the bed, trying to remember what it was he was intending to do before. Bono sat next to him on the bed. "You're really amazing, you know that? I mean, these guys are growing so fast and so healthy, and it's all because of you."

Edge held his hands up in front of his face. "I don't know how I've done it. I do much better with machines than animals."

"Don't be silly." Bono took one of Edge's hands in his own. "Look at these hands. Delicate hands, perfect for such delicate work." He rubbed Edge's palm with two fingers, stroked up and down his forearm, polished the smooth clean nails with a fingertip. It was quiet. Even the kittens were quiet.

"Bono, what are you doing?"

"I love you."

"I know that."

"No, I mean I think I love you. Love. You."

"What are you talking about?" Edge propped himself up on his elbows but Bono pushed him back down as he spoke.

"Do you want to know what I think love is? I think love is wanting nothing in the world more than the other person's happiness, and doing everything in your power to make them happy."

"...Okay."

"Edge..." Bono reached out with a shaky hand to lift the hem of Edge's shirt, exposing his flat, taut belly. He stroked this newly revealed flesh with hunger in his eyes and in his touch. His hand stopped shaking.

"Bono what are you doing?"

"I want to make you happy."

"You do make me happy."

"No, I want to make you REALLY happy." Bono tugged at Edge's zipper and it slid down. Slowly. He knew how risky this was. He'd thought very hard about how to make it difficult for Edge to say No. "You deserve to feel good," he said. "You haven't had a wank in a month."

"How do you know?"

Bono looked him in the eye for the first time. "Because I stay up every night and wait for you to do it after you think I'm asleep."

Edge tried to evade Bono's grasp by scooting back on the bed, but that only resulted in his zipper being undone faster. "Well--- I--- That sort of thing isn't so important to me."

"Oh Edge, there's no need to lie to me like that. Why aren't you stopping me?"

"I...I..." He couldn't do it. He tried, but he couldn't. Instead, he lifted his hips, ever so slightly, so Bono could push his trousers down.

"Listen," Bono whispered. "This is just innocent fun. No one has to know, okay?"

"Okay." Edge nodded, wide-eyed. "Okay. Do it."

Bono's warm hand around him was like being immersed in a hot bath. He sighed and shifted, making little surprised noises, as if he were only now learning about the pleasures a person could derive from their private parts. But as he became more excited he clasped his hand over Bono's and whispered, "Like this." He showed Bono the pace and grip he preferred, then, when Bono got it right, lay back again and groaned, "Ah yeah, that's how I like it. Ooh..." His head lolled back and forth and he pressed his palms to the mattress as his hips pumped in time with Bono's hand. "Ooh faster now. Faster. Faster..."

His orgasm was quiet, quick, and intense; the orgasm of the disbelieving. Bono's deceptively clumsy fingers lured him past the point of no return and drained him of everything he had accumulated; all the worry, all the stress, all the doubt.

When he finished he lifted his head and with little inquisitive groans watched Bono's hand pull away from his fading erection, watched him get up to find a towel and clean up, whispering again, "No one has to know. We just had a little fun, that's all. Alright? How do you feel?"

Edge stared at the ceiling. "I feel kind of dirty."

"That's good. It's supposed to make you feel dirty. That's what makes it so fun."

A soft, contented smile found its way to Edge's lips, and he dozed off. Bono stayed up and played with the kittens awhile longer, then laid down some fresh towels over the cold bathroom floor, placed the litterpan and a dish of food in there, and shut the toddling kittens inside. It was no use trying to keep them in the box all night anymore. He laid next to Edge on the double bed, masturbated quietly, then joined Edge in slumber.

 

 **8**

As the kittens grew older, Edge felt comfortable leaving them in someone else's charge besides Bono's occasionally, if only for a few minutes at a time. Whoever it was that watched them kept their hands to themselves out of respect for Edge, or fear of him, depending on how close they were to him on the night he blew up at that roadie and the club owner. But the funny thing was, if they felt like they were alone with the kittens, they would talk to them. When confined to a tour bus everyone learned a lot about everyone else quite quickly, and you had to be careful that the thing you had to get off your chest today didn't turn into tomorrow's running joke. The crew felt comfortable talking to the kittens about these things: frustrations at discourteous hotel roommates, fears that they've been doing the wrong thing with their lives all along. Eventually, most everyone was talking to these good little listeners whenever they had the chance.

Except Bono. Bono stopped talking to them, for reasons no one understood. You'd think he'd have more to say to them than ever, now that he was walking around with that big mysterious grin on his face all the time.

It was the last day in America when Edge relented. He allowed anyone to hold the kittens that wanted to. He sat near the back of the bus on the way to the airport and everyone gathered around.

"When did they get so big?" Ellen wondered aloud.

"Alright," Edge said, "everyone has to wash their hands! Let me see your hands. Okay, here you go. Don't squeeze."

Bono sat next to Edge, as usual, grinning at the delighted faces of the patient crew who had their chance at last. The kittens were bewildered by all the excitement but not distraught. They sniffed at hands and melted everyone's hearts with their little squeaks.

"Kenneth, you call those clean? Get out of here and don't come back 'til you've found a bar of soap."

"Someone should have told him that at the _start_ of the tour," Larry muttered.

"Do you want to hold a kitten, Larry?"

Larry looked left and right, unsure if it would sully his reputation. But he held out his hands and Edge put a kitten in them.

"Heh...they are kind of adorable aren't they? Hi there." The kitten mewed and he smiled at it.

"I think," Bono chuckled, "that Larry's cold, pragmatic exterior has just been exposed as the facade it really is. See, now aren't you glad Edge kept them?"

"Well, em...I don't know about that..." Larry backpedaled. "They're cute is all. No shame in admitting that." He looked to Paul. "Is there?"

"What made you decide to finally let everyone hold them?" Paul asked.

"Oh, I don't know," Edge said. "I just figured they're old enough now, and you know the tour's over and this is our last chance to all be together, so..."

"Nonsense," said Bono. "Edge just finally learned to trust another pair of hands."


End file.
